Suddenly faster, stronger, and smarter than before, Santana can't figure what's happening to her and what to do about it. With the help of a new relationship from a close friend, can she come to terms with who she is and who she must become? Quintanna.
Chapter 1: What Just Happened?
She sat alone on the gym floor, the smell of sneakers and pine sol floating around her. The smell of high school, for once, didn't bother Santana. Instead, she stared at the balance beam from which she just launched 65 feet into the air and landed safely and lightly on her toes. This was the third time she did it in the empty gymnasium, having stayed behind to see what was happening to her. Wide-eyed and stunned, she fell back and sat, staring at the balance beam that must have had some sort of slingshot effect. That could be the only explanation. But no other Cheerio had commented on being able to jump higher.
"How is that even- where did that come-"she interrogated herself, shaking her head. She had noticed she was getting stronger but there was nothing that explained why she suddenly turned into a human rocketship. Her thoughts consumed her as she picked herself up and headed towards the locker room, an unused gym towel slung over shoulder.
Cheerio practice was long over. Coach Sylvester made them do handstands for 4 minutes with one minute breaks in between. It doesn't sound too bad but being upside down made your face flush and head start spinning. It was one of the worst drills ever but today, for some reason, today, it wasn't so bad for Santana. In fact, she hardly spent any energy, even having the strength and balance to twist around and look at other girls while maintaining a perfect balance. These were followed up by suicide drills.
Suicides burned her thighs. That is the best description that she could come up with after Cheerio bootcamp. It felt like someone was scraping a white-hot blade back and forth on her tan thighs as they dipped and sprinted back and forth, back and forth.
But not today, Santana realized. In front of the red Cheerio lockers, she slowly peeled off her uniform. Her thighs did not burn today. Come to think of it, there was no strain in suicides. In fact, she can't remember the last time it was truly hard. Sylvester said I was first… by a long shot. Was she? She couldn't even remember when adrenaline and competition was coursing through her muscles. Adrenaline and competition always managed to block out everyone but herself; she kept careful track of how well she did and only managed to compare herself to others when she finished, panting at the end. But today, she finished the suicides and let loose her raven-black hair to retie it. By the time she finished perfecting her look, all the other Cheerios were next to her, bent over and panting while she stood calm and collected, only irritated by the fact that suicides had messed up her perfect ponytail.
She wrapped herself in a towel, not really focusing on anything as she headed to the shower room. Staring at the ground as she walked, she tried to recount the past couple practices to see if anything could explain her newfound strength and speed.
I don't get it, she thought. What's going on? Nothing has changed lately and-
"Hey!" Santana's thoughts come screeching to a halt as a wet body slid smacked straight on her chest. She walked straight into Quinn, who was just coming out of the shower herself, by the looks (and wet feel) of it.
Santana managed to crash back from her thoughts just in time to deliver a genuine apology. Her voice, distant to her own ears, floated out a soft "sorry".
Quinn's face softened at the softness of Santana's voice. The Latina never stepped back from a confrontation, even if it was her fault for running into Quinn, let alone apologize. Quinn glanced around; no one was here but the two of them. In these private moments, Quinn was allowed to care for her friend. Sure, they were always competing to be head bitch in charge but they both knew it was in good spirits, despite what others think. No matter what, they knew they got each other's back in an odd love-hate relationship that most people couldn't understand.
"Nah, don't worry about it," Quinn offered a smile. "Are you okay?"
Quinn heard the concern creep into her own voice, even though she tried to be nonchalant. She picked up the towel she dropped in surprise from running straight into Santana and wrapped herself again, carefully tucking in the corners. Santana's mind was definitely somewhere else, her eyes not focusing on the naked blonde in front of her. Or even the fact that there was no one else.
"Yeah- I just… wasn't being carefully," Santana replied, smiling weakly. "Didn't see you there." She quickly moved aside to walk past Quinn and into the shower, leaving the blonde a little dumbfounded at what appeared to be Santana's newfound considerate personality. Quinn stared as the steam slowly obscured her view of the bronze body, now completely uncovered. When Santana got like this, Quinn knew to give her space; she'd approach her when Santana had some time to think about whatever was on her mind. Maybe tomorrow, after Glee. Quinn dried off, dressed herself, and with her car keys in hand, strode off to the parking lot with the sun still setting outside.
Santana, on the other hand, stood under the hot water, one hand pressed up against the wall and one hand on the hot water handle. Nothing she tried to remember could explain the sudden change in her capabilities. She gripped her hands with concern and-
Krunk.
Santana stared at the broken metal handle in her hand. Okay, now would be the time to freak out.
Santana grabbed her towel and ran out to the locker room. Faster than Quinn had, she dried off and quickly put on leggings and a shirt before racing out, the sound of the broken shower stall hissing behind her. She brushed Quinn's shoulder as she bolted the gym.
What Santana failed to notice in her hurry was how fast she was going. Quinn, who had showered, finished, and left earlier, turned at the soft brush of her shoulder but looked behind to find that no one was in the locker room anymore. She turned back to the parking lot just in time to see Santana's car pulling out.
What the fuck? Santana thought as she looked over at the broken handle in her passenger seat.